Something Beautiful Again
by tastingstars
Summary: Post-MJ story, but before epilogue. Katniss struggles over having a child and goes to Haymitch. Because he understands in a way that Peeta can't. Haymitch/Katniss POV's, Rated T for language.


_Disclaimer: I am not Suzanne Collins, however much I wish I was. All the characters in this story belong to her._

**Something Beautiful Again**

_Haymitch POV_

It's the morning, early. Too early for human beings if you ask me. Not that anybody does.

I'm pretty sober right now. Over the course of the last few years, that's not ridiculously out of the ordinary. The world has ravaged and destroyed me in a way that I thought I could never be destroyed again. Before the war began, I knew lives would be lost and I knew that sometimes the survivors would be worse off than the dead. But I thought I was fine. I was the perfect person to lead the victors' rebellion effort because the only thing the Capitol could take away from me was my life. And that wasn't of much value to me anyway.

I had nothing and no one to lose. But, turns out, you don't know what you've got 'til it's gone. It's hard for me to place what's gone, exactly. I feel...hollow, and even the strongest spirits just seem to slosh around in my stomach. I've been through so much pain that I can't distract myself from it anymore. I can't escape; and I'm so very trapped in a life where I wish I could.

The end of the rebellion had left me with little to do. In those horrific years following my Games, the rebellion plans and drink were the only things that kept me sane. Then, somehow, I lost both of them, and I found my life staring at me in the face, screaming, demanding to be recognized. Everyone I'd lost before-Maysilee, the bravest girl I knew; my mother, with her quiet determination after my father's suicide; my brother, Ramsey, the only person that looked up to me; my girlfriend, Sayran, so feisty and full of hope-all their losses came back full force. I'd spent so many years hiding from my ghosts that they crept up on me, weaving their wispy spirits through my brain, my heart, my lungs...and I just couldn't seem to think, love, or even breathe anymore.

And then there were the fresh wounds at the end of the rebellion, the deaths of people I thought I knew better than to care about. Chaff. Boggs. Portia. Prim. Cinna. Finnick. And I might as well throw Katniss and Peeta into that bunch because after the rebellion it'd felt like I'd lost them too. It was like they were two completely different people from the two kids I knew who just wanted each other to survive. Who dared to show the Capitol that they were more than just a piece in their Games.

Sometimes I think I see a flash of those kids again. At times I see the unparalleled selflessness of the boy with the bread. Every now and then I notice the Mockingjay's wings flutter. Occasionally I see Lover Boy's fierce protectiveness. Once in a while the girl who was on fire has a spark in her eyes.

Just as quickly, though, the spark goes out. The girl on fire remembers that her flames are gone, that only smoke is left behind. It's hard not to cough. It's hard not to let it sting your eyes. It's hard to remember that you're not allowed to forget. It's hard to not just break down onto the ground and cry. It's even harder to stand back up again.

And then there's Peeta. Ensnared in a strange purgatory where the lines of happiness and sorrow, innocence and guilt, dream and nightmare, love and hate, and real and not real blur till they're indiscernible. Life is hard enough when you have your feet firmly planted in reality. When all the worlds and nightmares collide, everything's foggy. Real or not real? _Real or not real?_ I ask myself the question sometimes. Did it all happen? Was there ever something as evil as the Capitol? Did the dead ever walk among us? Am I forgetting? Or am I simply remembering more than there is to remember? It makes me shake. It makes me wonder. It makes me question. Uncertainty-the worst torture of them all.

I struggle to remind myself that things _are _getting better. For all of us. That we have chosen to focus on the present rather than the past. As much as we can, anyway. Because however tricky it can be to think about it, things are looking up. For everyone.

Under Paylor Panem is slowly but surely becoming a better place. Here in the remains of District 12, we're doing the same. Builders have come in and a memorial has been placed among the ruins of the Justice Building. It honors all the children from 12 lost in the Hunger Games and also all those who were killed by the Capitol's bombs after the Quarter Quell. They've also built some farms, and farming is what the majority of District 12 citizens will be doing to make their livings. Shops have sprouted up around as well, including a bakery where Peeta works sometimes. Not that he and Katniss need the money. Every time people come from the new capital (somewhere in District 5) they're basically showered in gifts and money for no apparent reason. Typical, people still being infatuated with the romance of their favorite victors.

The romance that, somewhere along the way, became real. I smile to myself. Peeta, of course, has always been head over heels for Katniss. I remember when he first told me his plan to protect her, before their first Games: _"It's so hard to explain... I know I must seem stupid, that I want to lay down my own life for this girl I hardly know. But there's just something about her, Haymitch, something about her that makes me not care what happens to me, just makes me positive that I can't let her die. That I won't let her die. For some reason, Katniss Everdeen means a hell of a lot more to me than she should..." _But Katniss...no one was really sure how she felt about Peeta, not even her. I think that it was hard for her to love him when that was what the Capitol wanted; she wanted it to be purely her decision and with everything so tainted and confusing she could never be sure what her feelings were. And then, of course, there was always Gale around, mystifying her further.

After the rebellion was finally over and we were left to pick up the pieces of our lives in District 12, they just happened so naturally. They protected each other; they needed each other; they loved each other. That's the way it had always been. About three years after the overthrow of the Capitol they got married. And they're happy. Well, as happy as two completely fucked up people can be.

I sit on my couch and turn on the television. There's a special on a new chain of housing they're building in District 11. _Finally getting rid of those ridiculous huts, _I think. Glad to hear it. Most past 11 citizens have left that area, anyway. There were just too many people and not enough food. The main goal of the new Panem government has been to virtually equalize all of the housing and lifestyles of the people. It's been rough for them; I'm sure glad as hell that it's not my job. See, we have some of the wimpy Capitol citizens who are still finding it difficult to live in a world where they can't get their hair dyed weekly and just does not have enough lamb stew with dried plums. It's been quite entertaining seeing them try to adapt themselves to a normal lifestyle. With the Capitol being destroyed and all, most have flocked to District 1, which was probably the least damaged by the rebellion. Still, it's quite an adjustment.

I flip through the channels, bored. The main thing that seems to be on every channel is a news story about a school in District 3 that was teaching about the Capitol in a positive light. I laugh darkly to myself. I remember what Plutarch told Katniss and I as we were heading back to District 12: _"...collective thinking is usually short-lived. We're fickle, stupid beings with poor memories and a great gift for self-destruction."_ Huh. That's for sure. The Capitol hasn't even been overthrown for fifteen years and there's already pro-Capitol propaganda popping up? It's ridiculous. At this rate, the currently unemployed Mockingjay is going to have to be the face of another war soon.

She would kill me if she knew that I thought that. Katniss has grown to totally hate the way she was "used" leading up to the rebellion and during it; she really doesn't have anything good to say about the media. I don't think she's said a single word to them since the rebellion, and that must be difficult considering how often they're banging down her door. The media being so damn rude-that's one thing that hasn't changed in the absence of the Capitol.

I focus on the TV but the reporters' words begin to muddle together and I drift off. I wake up sometime later to the screen door at the back of my house slamming.

"Haymitch? Haymitch!" I yawn and look around. Katniss? What the hell does she want?

She finds me sitting on the couch, rubbing my eyes. "Haymitch," she says in a strange voice.

"What is it sweetheart? I was sleeping, you know. You know how hard that can be."

I look at her face, though, and can immediately tell that something's wrong. Something's _really _wrong. I drop the joking pretense and we go into Katniss and Haymitch Survival Mode.

"Did something happen? To Peeta?" I ask her, my stomach dropping. She shakes her head, looking like she's going to cry, or scream, or collapse. Something along those lines.

"Katniss, what's the matter?" I'm starting to get uncomfortable now. Katniss and I have a good relationship when it comes to the more black and white things. Surviving. Killing. Starting a rebellion. Manipulating. Taking down the Capitol. Saving the future. All easy. But when we get into this gray area, the strange wasteland of human emotion that neither of us have much time for, things start to go wrong.

"Haymitch...I'm pregnant."

I breathe a sigh of relief. I was expecting at least a minor crisis of some sort. The Hunger Games starting again... her mother dying... Snow and Coin rising from the dead...That's what I had in mind. Kids...that's not even bad. They're good, right? Most people think they are. She starts babbling. "I don't even, I mean, I know... Peeta always wanted kids and I was so drunk and somehow we just didn't use protection..."

"Okay, sweetheart, I don't need a play by play..."

She looks up at me with wide eyes. "Haymitch, I don't want a kid! I don't want to be responsible to bring someone into this world...no one, no one deserves that. And I, I can't be a mother! I just can't..."

I look at her horrified expression, and instead of messing with her, I attempt to see this situation through her brain. How having a child could seem like an absolute nightmare, the worst-case scenario. I don't have to think too hard, not really. Sometimes it strikes me how much Katniss and I are alike. We're cowards, really, us two Hunger Games victors. We refuse to face our problems, unless they're, say, a psycho kid with a spear. Existence is too big and evil for us to handle, so oftentimes, we choose not to handle it at all.

It's the safest way to be. It's a hellish world, and sometimes life can seem like a game.

It's true, isn't it? Life is just a series of risks and chances, and for those of us that like a solid footing at all times, we try not to play at all. Don't gamble at cards, we think. You'll lose your last coin. That's our quintessential view. Living to the fullest isn't worth the suffering that could potentially come out of it. That, when it comes down to it, the ends never justify the means.

Katniss is afraid. She never wanted to live like this. She never wanted to fall in love, and she especially never wanted to have children. Loving people makes you vulnerable. That's why you shouldn't love anyone too much. In the end, it just destroys you. Like it did to me, Katniss, Katniss's mother, Annie, Johanna, and so many others... If you only care about yourself, you're practically invincible. The thing is, though, we don't live in a world where the Mockingjay needs to be invincible anymore. We aren't in a giant arena, however often it may seem like it. There's no one she needs to pretend to be strong for. No one she needs to manipulate to survive. She just needs to be happy. Hell, the girl who was on fire _deserves _to be happy.

Somehow, I've fallen into this father role for Katniss. And although I don't really like it and I'm terrible at it, she needs me. And I need her. Because that's how we always have worked. Katniss and Haymitch vs. The World.

So I just hug her. I'm trying to apologize, I guess. Partially for what I've done, but mostly for what the world's done to her. Maybe I'm trying to tell her that it will be okay. It won't really ever be okay again, but things will get better. I can tell she's surprised, but she hugs me back. Maybe this was what she was looking for, coming here. She knew that I wouldn't be able to fix this or erase it from her mind. I've never pretended to be able to do that. But I have made things more bearable for her. That's what we do. Help each other survive.

I pull back and look into her eyes, shiny with unshed tears.

"You know, Katniss, this really isn't a bad thing. We don't live in a world where they'll be reaped into a fight for the death anymore. They'll have plenty to eat, plenty of clothes to wear. They can have a future that's their choice, regardless of what you and Peeta do. They will be safe."

"Not really, though. No one's ever safe. They could still suffer from disease and depression and fear...there could be another war...They could get into an accident..." She bites her lip. I realize that she probably wants to get an abortion and thought I'd support her doing it. I understand her fear-it's the same thing that has kept me with a bottle and away from a family for all these years. But I know that having a family could make her and Peeta happy, even if she doesn't know yet.

"Life isn't safe, sweetheart, but it's worth it."

I give her a probing look, implying that I've figured out her whole idea. "You haven't told Peeta yet, have you?" She shakes her head. "You're afraid of how happy he'll be." She nods.

"I know you want to take matters into your own hands, but this child is half Peeta's, too. And you know he wants this more than anything. So...I think you should go through with this."

_Katniss POV_

My world spins strangely, and for the first time I consider actually being a mother. A child. Mine.

The image swarms my brain before I can stop it. A girl, about five years old. Blonde hair halfway down her back, endlessly blue eyes. She smiles and dances and the sun glints off her in a perfectly strangely beautiful way. I'm shocked by how easily I know that I love her. I just _know. _

She reminds me of Prim, obviously. It doesn't take much to do that. She's always there, creeping in the dark shadows of a corner of my mind.

Life goes on, people always say. But it doesn't, really. At least, not like it did before. It sputters and stops at strange times. Little things, like a bit of goat cheese, hearing the giggle of a young girl, seeing a duck embroidered on a baby's jacket; little things can set you off. Little things remind you that they're really gone.

Sometimes I can't imagine what her face looks like.

Sometimes I just break down and sob. And I can't stop until my entire body runs dry, crumpled and frail like a leaf.

It's gotten easier, a bit, at least. At first, I had to remind myself. Get out of bed, Katniss. Eat, Katniss. Wash your hair, Katniss. Remember, Katniss, remember. But after awhile I don't have to remind myself anymore. And eventually, my motions begin to have meaning behind them. I begin to see again, to hear again, to feel again. Slowly, slowly, bit by bit, I learn how to be Katniss again. But that's the hardest thing of all to remember.

I don't know how I can be a mother when I can barely hold myself together. But at the same time, I'm suddenly overcome by a desire to try. Just do it. There's a child here, living in my stomach as we speak. It probably even has fingernails already. And even if I'm not the best mother in the world, it's worth a shot isn't it? I guess I could give this a go. For Peeta.

"Okay," I say. Haymitch looks shocked. "You're actually agreeing with me? Man, I thought I was going to have to get Peeta involved. That was way too easy. I guess underneath it all, you're still just a little hero, right Katniss?"

I make a face, even though I know he's being sarcastic. Nothing bothers me more these days than the fact that people revere me as a national hero of some sort. Honestly? "Hero" is the last word I would use to describe me.

I'm no hero. I broke the law, I stole, I begged, I thought about myself no matter what. I betrayed people I loved. I killed so many innocent people, even children. I didn't help people who deserved it. I didn't keep my promises.

There are so many bad things I've done without remorse…well, I may not be a hero, but in this one instance I will be heroic. I will take one for the team, and have this child. Because I know it's what Peeta and Haymitch and everybody want. And I know my fears don't have any roots. I need to move on from the rebellion, everybody else has. I've been the only one stuck behind for a while now.

"Well," Haymitch says. "Looks like we got all that settled. If you don't mind, I'm going to go back to sleep. Although I'll probably be woken by Peeta's screams of joy coming in, oh, about the next twenty minutes." He sighs and walks upstairs without looking back. I smile at his retreating form. He's right, Peeta is going to be really excited.

Thinking about his excitement makes me a bit excited too. Maybe this won't be so bad, after all. Maybe it'll even be…good. Maybe. I return back to Peeta's and my house much happier than when I left it. Of course, I was alone then, and now I'm going back and I can tell he's home—I smell bread in the oven.

I take a deep breath and walk inside, unraveling my scarf from around my neck.

"Peeta? I have something to tell you…"

So, I tell Peeta. He's consumed with joy, but a little scared too; my feelings switched around. But we both have realized that maybe this isn't about what we want, it's about what we need. With all the pain we'd been through, we expected the light at the end of the tunnel to be an irrationally perfect ending. It hasn't been, and probably won't ever be. There are no guarantees-not now, or ever. More suffering will come our way. Some days will be worse than others. Sometimes we'll be hopeless; sometimes we won't know what's real and not real. And we'll always have the nightmares.

But hopefully, maybe, someday, we'll be happy. If we find a way to grasp onto what's good and happy and _real _we can glue together all the shattered pieces and maybe make our lives something beautiful again.


End file.
